From the Ground Up
by dragonchrysalis
Summary: Oneshot inspired by a Tumblr post that's been going around. As Ginny and Harry prepare to buy their first home, Ginny talks with George about growing up poor.


The bell above the door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes twinkled merrily as she stepped into the shop.

"Oi!" called a voice from behind the counter. "You can't come in now, we're closing – _ow, bloody fucker_!" George Weasley straightened up, rubbing his scalp furiously where he had cracked it against the underside of the counter. He relaxed once he saw who had come in.

"Oh, Gin, it's you."

"It's me." She replied, crossing the room to embrace her brother. After a few seconds, he pulled away and held her at arm's length, searching her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Can't a girl come visit her favorite brother without there being a problem?" Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder, trying to look convincing. George snorted.

"I may be half deaf, but I'm not dumb. Your favorite brother is trying so hard to get Hermione pregnant it's becoming a sport to rival Quidditch. Care to join the pool? I'm betting she'll have a potion in the cauldron by June, if you know what I mean."

"Seven Sickles on April. It's Hermione's favorite time of year." She responded automatically, settling backward into a chair and winding her legs into a complicated knot.

"Seven Sickles on April it is!" George brandished his quill with a flourish, marking down Ginny's bet in the ledger he kept for various budgets separate from shop expenses.

"Now," he continued. "What's going on? Marital troubles?" Ginny shrugged.

"Sort of." George swung himself easily up to sit on the counter.

"Well then, tell Georgie all about it! And have a cockroach cluster while you're at it." He tossed the treat at her head and she swatted it away with the reflexes of a pro Chaser. There was silence for a long moment before she spoke, the rejected cluster now scuttling across the shop floor.

"Do you ever think about….the way we grew up?" George nodded.

"Of course I do. All the time." His face darkened for a moment and Ginny knew that he probably spent more time basking in memories of a time when Fred was alive than was strictly healthy. She wondered if it was possible to develop a Pensieve addiction. She resolved to ask Hermione.

"Not just that." She said quietly. "Not just…not just a time when we were young and happy and you had both ears and Bill didn't have all those scars and Fred wasn't…" She trailed off and George flinched so hard he nearly fell off the counter. Ginny pretended not to notice.

"I'm talking about being poor. About how I shared a room with Mum and Dad when you all were home on breaks until the year before I went to Hogwarts. About how we grew up hearing that Santa couldn't afford to give us presents. About how I made myself sick after the Welcoming Feast my first year because I'd never seen that much food in one place in my life. About how we all got made fun of for our secondhand robes and secondhand books –"

"And Dad beat up Lucius Malfoy for it." George finished, tilting his head back and grinning at the memory. "One of the best things Dad ever did. Yeah, I think about it sometimes. Then I remember that we've all done pretty well for ourselves, so the last laugh's on those twats. Not many people can say their little sister is the one of the best Chasers the Harpies have had in the last decade!" he added. Ginny blushed violently, giving her the appearance of a long-haired tomato.

"So Harry and I were shopping for things for the new house yesterday," she continued. "Now that I'm full time and out of training, we don't need to live in that dinky little starter flat anymore, and we wanted something bigger with a backyard so I can practice and for any…future children that might come along." George opened his mouth, ostensibly to comment on the likelihood of future Potter children, but a swift glare from Ginny silenced him as effectively as any _Silencio_ charm.

"We needed a bed and linens, of course, and cooking cauldrons, and so many _things_ , George! I don't know how Mum and Dad did it when they were first married. And Harry and I…we got into sort of a row about it. He wanted so many expensive things and of course all the salespeople were just _fawning_ over him, trying to sell the savior of the Wizarding World their most expensive items. Fifty Galleons for a bed set! We could have gotten one for less than half that at the shops Mum used to go to. And all I could think was that we wouldn't have enough money for food after all that and how Mum used to Gemino the food when we weren't looking because she was so ashamed we couldn't afford food for all of us. Next thing I knew, Harry was shouting and I was shouting and I ended up curled in a ball on the shop floor sobbing with half the staff looking at me like I was a Hungarian Horntail." Her next sentence was almost a whisper. "I just don't want any children of mine to grow up poor like we did, and then I remember they won't have to."

George slid off the counter and came over to his sister, laying a hand on her arm. "They won't have to and they never will." He said firmly. "You make more than enough money with the Harpies, and even though pro Quidditch players never have long careers, you get a sizeable retirement plan, and you know the Prophet would welcome you on as a sportswriter with open arms. Not to mention Harry's an Auror and they get paid more than almost any other Ministry employee."

Ginny sighed. "I suppose you're right. Do you think we'll ever stop feeling poor?"

"I don't know." George answered honestly. "The shop's making enough money now to pay me, Ron, and two assistants a sizeable salary and sometimes I still feel like it's just me and Fred in our room making fake wands on a lark. I don't think we can ever truly escape from what we went through growing up, especially once the war started." He studied the floor as he spoke, staring at his feet, and as he bowed his head, his missing ear was on full display, a grisly reminder of what they had all had to experience.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "Do you want to stay here tonight? You know the flat above the shop is always available for you. I can go home or stay here with you, your choice. Angelina would understand."

"No, I really shouldn't." Ginny sighed. "I dunno what time Harry's getting home tonight, but he'll be hungry, and the man is likely to set the flat on fire if he tries to cook." George nodded.

"Alright, then. Tell Harry I said hello." Ginny smiled.

"I will. Thanks for the talk, George."

"I'm always available for you, Gin. You know that."

As she left the shop and the bell twinkled, George absentmindedly twiddled his wand stuck behind his ear, setting off a few lazy green sparks. Perhaps it was time to talk to Ron about putting into place a charity program at the shop for impoverished kids. Hermione would know how those things worked. He sat down and scribbled ideas onto scraps of parchment, far into the night, until Angelina flooed to ask if he was ever coming home.


End file.
